Somebody
by Ria202
Summary: Spoilers for 3/17/03 RAW: Song fic--Jeff reflects


Title: Somebody (1/1)  
  
Author: MFNlaw  
  
E-mail: mneve@earthlink.net  
  
Category: WWE  
  
Pairings: Jeff/Trish  
  
Disclaimer: All WWE characters belong to World Wrestling Entertainment. The song "Somebody" is by Depeche Mode and is used without permission.  
  
Distribution: Ask first please  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: March 17, 2003 RAW - Jazz/Trish vs. Steven/Victoria  
  
Summary: Song fic-Jeff reflects  
  
Notes: LOL, it appears that I'm not the only one who was inspired by a small portion of this evening's RAW. It's nice to have a little romance back in wrestling. ;) Song lyrics are in parenthesis.  
  
Complicated. Conflicted. They might be on to something. Then again, maybe not. One never knew when it came to Jeff Hardy. He didn't even know, but something was missing. His actions of the past few months made no sense; they were simply a way for him to try and find some direction, like random stabs in the dark. He needed a way to define himself as something other than a member of the now-defunct Team Extreme.  
  
As he walked through the curtain into the back, touching his lips one more time, he ignored the looks of bewilderment from his fellow wrestlers. If they were expecting an explanation, well, too bad. He didn't have one. Yanking the visor over his head, he raked the fingers of his other hand through his hair and sighed. She hadn't shied away from it, but maybe that was because she had been in a state of shock. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, she had returned it. He could still feel her lips against his. It wasn't altogether an unpleasant sensation, and somewhere deep inside where even he sometimes refused to venture, the pieces started to come back together.  
  
(I want somebody to share  
  
Share the rest of my life  
  
Share my innermost thoughts  
  
Know my intimate details  
  
Someone who'll stand by my side  
  
And give me support  
  
And in return  
  
She'll get my support She will listen to me  
  
When I want to speak  
  
About the world we live in  
  
And life in general  
  
Though my views may be wrong  
  
They may even be perverted  
  
She will hear me out  
  
And won't easily be converted  
  
To my way of thinking  
  
In fact she'll often disagree  
  
But at the end of it all  
  
She will understand me)  
  
Thinking about it brought a small smile to his face. He headed down the corridor that would take him to the locker room, now thinking back to what precipitated his mad dash to the ring earlier. His head was screwed on straight enough to know that once Jazz had left ringside, she was in for a world of trouble. Victoria made no secret of her hatred for the blonde Canadian, and Steven Richards was whipped enough to make sure that his girlfriend got what she wanted. That meant nothing but pain for the former women's champion. So he went out there, only intending to even up the odds and hopefully prevent a horrific beatdown.  
  
The look in her eyes as he helped her up afterwards was mistrustful and somewhat hesitant. He supposed he couldn't blame her; he hadn't exactly been predictable lately. Consequently, he made sure he was careful as he brought her to her feet, turning her around to face him at the same time. Then it happened. He touched his forehead to hers and it just felt right. He gave her the briefest of kisses, no more than a mere brush of the lips, and then he turned, left the ring and walked up the ramp.  
  
Pulling himself back into the present, Jeff pushed open the door of the locker room, half hoping that no one else was in there. Luckily it was deserted. He made his way to the sink, intending to splash some water on his face as if it would bring clarity to his screwy life of late. Instead he braced his arms on the sides and absently looked at himself in the mirror. Some of the paint had rubbed off his forehead, which meant that it was on her. He had no idea how she felt about that-wearing his mark for all intents and purposes. As he pondered that, yet more pieces of his internal puzzle fell back into place.  
  
He had been searching for something the past few months, but maybe it was someONE that he needed. His brother's desertion and Lita's prolonged absence had left a void in his life. Once Lita had returned to the road announcing for Heat, things improved a bit, but it still wasn't right. Even his music and poetry couldn't fill the hole, and therefore he created this artificial intensity in a half-hearted attempt to rediscover himself. Tonight, the real thing returned. There was nothing fake about it.  
  
Jeff turned away from the mirror and walked over to the bench where his bag was, feeling more like himself than he had in a while. He wondered if that moment-it was too important just to classify as a kiss-held any meaning at all for her. He wanted to believe it did, because the alternative was inconceivable. He sat down and began to remove his ring gear, knowing full well that he was going to have to talk to her at some point.  
  
(I want somebody who cares  
  
For me passionately  
  
With every thought and with every breath  
  
Someone who'll help me see things  
  
In a different light  
  
All the things I detest  
  
I will almost like  
  
I don't want to be tied  
  
To anyone's strings  
  
I'm carefully trying to steer clear  
  
Of those things  
  
But when I'm asleep  
  
I want somebody  
  
Who will put their arms around me  
  
And kiss me tenderly Though things like this  
  
Make me sick  
  
In a case like this  
  
I'll get away with it)  
  
Once he had showered and packed up his things, he debated on stopping by the divas' dressing room on his way out. He quickly dismissed that idea. She would be tired, sore, angry, and probably confused. Meaning it wouldn't be a good time to have an involved discussion, because he really needed her to understand.  
  
As he looked around the room one last time, he grabbed his bag and made his way towards the door. Pulling it open, he was shocked to see her standing there, still in her purple jumpsuit and still with his green paint smudged across her face. Nervously, he ran his hand through his damp hair, trying to cover his surprise. He started to say something....but Trish spoke first.  
  
"Thank you Jeff. I don't know why you helped me, but I'm grateful you did."  
  
Smiling at him, she turned to walk away, but then thought better of it. Instead, she moved closer and cupped his cheek in her hand. He leaned in to her touch, relishing the unexpected contact. At that moment, she did something neither one of them anticipated. Pulling his head towards hers, Trish Stratus returned Jeff Hardy's kiss.  
  
Later would be soon enough for the questions and details.  
  
~End? 


End file.
